We are still flowers blooming
From the old pear tree of ours.
We can’t see this gardening,
Too stubborn to look upon.
We’ve made mistakes when pruning
That we couldn’t appreciate,
Looking from the new, old spring
There are tools which were misplaced.
We thought that it would be ours,
The old pear tree didn’t last;
Its leaves left quicker each time,
How fools were we, we’re outcasts.
I thought of the old pear tree,
Maybe some compost would help,
But what’s pulled out of its roots
Has it worse to resurrect.
I still remember the day.
How we inserted the seed
Hoping it’d be for display,
Then, getting a weird breed.
Maybe that’s thanks to weirdness
Or of being passionless.
The thing is that all was gone,
The old pear tree just got drowned.
Much water for it alone
Not intentional, just did.
At first, I thought it was me,
“Had I fertilized over?”
Later was you obviously,
“Why did he ever bother?”
But that seemed, somehow, just wrong.
It was after that I saw.
We couldn’t take care of it,
Neither myself, nor you,
Just our bad inattention.
We both forgot about you.
I still like the old pear tree,
Even if it is fallen,
I know that it was the best,
That’s what is most important.
We thought we had yet to bloom,
But we never really did,
That’s why we never saw fruits
Of our giant, old pear tree.
